A Door Wide
by PadmeKSkywalker
Summary: Anakin is horrified and angered when he finds an unexpected, unwanted revelation about his Master's personal wishes in Obi Wan's journal. Slight AU. AniObi Drama, as are all of mine. NOT SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Now, I know that they don't use the Gregorian calendar in Star Wars, for obvious reasons, but I needed some sort of coherent dating system, so I took the liberty. Also, this story is slight AU, because in the movies none of the Jedi know about Anakin's marriage for a while. In this story, Anakin told Obi-Wan before they got married, and got him to persuade the Council that it was ok. More of that in the story.

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It was a little black book, lying innocuously on Obi-Wan's table. At first, Anakin assumed it to be one of those ridiculous fictions that his Master seemed so fixated with--but then he noticed the lack of a printed title on the cover, or for that matter, anything else on it, and it aroused his curiosity. He took the little book in hand and, glancing instinctively over his shoulder, opened it to the first page. 

_Private Property of Obi-Wan Kenobi_ was printed on the center of the page in a small, neat hand, without any flourishes or serifs. So like his Master, Anakin thought amusedly--his handwriting matched his personality perfectly. He wanted to turn the page, but the word "private" seemed to jump out at him. He had no desire to betray Obi-Wan's trust in him, and reading--whatever this was, could only do that. And yet, he could sense the emotions that had been poured into this little book. Frustration, contentment, boredom--but there were others, more tempting: anger, love, hatred, resentment... All the feelings of any normal human being, the ones that Obi-Wan never, ever showed, were right here. This, Anakin thought with a slight sense of awe, was where all those emotions went that, in Obi-Wan's case, seemed to simply disappear. Before he knew it, he was reading the second page.

_December the Second, 5092:_

_Anakin's at a lightsaber session. He didn't want to go, of course--he never does. Anytime I suggest anything remotely like it, he takes it as a slur on his own performance, as though I felt that he needed vast improvement. Not true in the slightest, of course, but try to tell that to an nineteen-year-old boy who only hears what he wants to._

Anakin scowled at the page. He didn't like reading his own faults being laid out in front of him, and especially in his Master's words. It felt too...personal. From anyone else he could have stood them, but to hear anything but praise from Obi-Wan was always crushing. Against his better judgment, Anakin continued reading.

_And the worst part is, I know Anakin: he'll come back in half-a-day, so exhilarated from his performance at the session that he will barely even remember that he never wanted to go in the first place. It's hard to keep from chuckling sometimes when he recounts to me his amazing prowess at some particular test, sharing every detail with me, maybe even hoping I'll have forgotten the reason he was there at all. That boy will be the death of me, and I'll have a million white hairs by then, but at last I'll be laughing when I go down._

Grinning in spite of himself, Anakin flipped through a few more pages, skimming them quickly. Hardly any of it was particularly exciting--a mission summary here, a mention of some Padawan's skill at connecting to the living Force there... Anakin quickly read over a little bit more, hoping for something really--well, he had to admit, he wanted something juicy--but there was actually very little in here that he didn't already know. Then his eyes caught the word 'Padme'.

_April the Fifteenth, 5093:_

_My Padawan is in love._

_My Padawan is in _love.

_How on earth did this happen? I wonder over and over again. Was it my fault, that I never really impressed upon him how important it was that a Jedi be unconnected as possible? Or would Anakin do something like this anyway, given that he _is_ Anakin._

_Padme should know better, even if he doesn't. But I suppose it's just my luck that the two of them would both be as reckless as possible. They don't understand the consequences of what might happen, they don't understand the dangers! All they can see is that they are happy in the now, in this moment, and it's all that matters to them._

_I tried to warn them. For that matter, I tried to forbid it altogether, but since when has that worked with my Padawan? All I can do is drop a hint here and there, suggesting that this might not be for the best, that perhaps the Council had a reason for this tenet--and Anakin _will not listen_. I don't know if he even understands what I'm trying to tell him. And it's so important, so utterly vital that he realize what I'm trying to warn him about, and then every time I open my mouth, I see him with her, looking so unbelievably happy and _alive_, and the words choke in my throat, even though the sight should only strengthen my resolve._

_Because he has to know--_I_ have to know: If the choice came, and he had to decide between Padme and the Jedi--which would he take?_

_And every time I think of that question, meaning it merely as a concerned warning for the apprentice I love, a voice speaks in the back of my head, and it asks another question, meant for Anakin as well, but spoken this time out of my own desires, my own wants and needs._

"_If you had to choose between Padme and me," it asks pitifully, "would you pick her?"_

_I never let myself think about it. I admit, I'm afraid of the answer. And if I fear that he would choose her, how can I help but question everything I know about him, when I had always naturally assumed that I would come first in his life, as he has always come first in mine?_

The entry ended there.

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More coming, as soon as I finish the second chapter! There might be three chapters, I'm not sure. It depends how long the second one gets, and if I can split it without ruining the story. 


	2. Chapter 2

Anakin stared at the page, feeling as though he had opened a door wide into a forbidden area of his Master's life, one that was forbidden with good cause, and now he wished with all his heart that he had left it closed. After so many years of seeing Obi-Wan as some weird sort of emotionless android, Anakin was certainly not prepared for so much contradiction, especially all at once. 

Oh, he had known that Obi-Wan hadn't exactly been thrilled about him and Padme, but _this_...this was on a level of its own. Anakin could feel his fingers trembling as they held onto the thin paper; how much else had Obi-Wan hidden from him that he had never known? If something this important would have been, in all probability, never once even mentioned, were there other truths in his Master's head that Anakin had never learned?

Wild possibilities sprang unbidden to his mind—maybe Obi-Wan had written, somewhere in here, that he despised his Padawan as much as he had when he had first taken him. Maybe he regretted his decision to follow Qui-Gon's death-wish, maybe Anakin had been nothing but a burden to him all of these years, a useless irritation—

Anakin hastily fumbled with the previous pages that he had skipped over, suddenly terrified, and made himself read quickly over each entry, praying fervently that there were no more awful truths. For the first time in his life, he understood what people meant when they said that ignorance was bliss.

But there was nothing. In all that Obi-Wan had written before that single entry, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Anakin finally let out his breath and allowed himself to relax slightly. Maybe it had been a one-time thing, he thought, permitting a shred of hope to enter his mind. Perhaps Obi-Wan had simply been extraordinarily depressed on the fifteenth of April, which had been less than six months ago, and, in an unusual burst of paranoia, had written that disturbing entry.

Hoping to prove this theory, Anakin turned back to April the Fifteenth and read on, skimming over the words. The little book seemed to hold many more pages than Anakin had originally thought—there seemed to be an entry made at least once a week, if not more often. But again, there seemed to be no more deep, dark secrets belonging to his Master.

Gradually, Anakin's breathing patterns returned to normal as he neared the end of the book. One day, that was all it had been. Just one day. Surely if Obi-Wan had _really _felt like that, he would have mentioned it more than once.

Feeling entirely reassured, Anakin turned to the last written entry in the diary. It was dated less than a week back.

_September the Third, 5093:_

_The Council called Anakin and me to the Council Room this morning, to ask us to retrieve a holocron that had been carelessly left on Dathomir. We'd be leaving in a week, and the mission itself sounded fairly simple. What many people don't know about Dathomir, however, is that half of its natives are almost a twisted version of the Jedi. Going to Dathomir is rather like watching a small-scale battle of the much larger one that is perpetually happening between the Jedi and the Sith. For some reason known only to them, the Council has restricted this information, and tells it only to Knights who have a need for it. Their plan was to fill me in, and then I would tell Anakin, or not, at my discretion._

_Anakin, it turned out, already knew about the Dathomir "witches", _long_ before I did._

_Somehow, it seems, he managed to get a look at some locked data files in the library, which Padawans are never given access to. He says that they were already on the screen when he sat down to use the computer, but I find it a bit hard to believe. No one with access to those files would be so careless as to leave them open like that._

_Technically, I suppose, it doesn't really matter, since he was to find out soon enough anyway. Really, though, it's _very_ annoying when he does stuff like this. Honestly, what's the point of being a Knight if your Padawan knows more than you do? I wish he'd at least _tell_ me when these things happen—I could have stood to know a few things about the witches before the Council sprang the mission on me._

_Again, technically, it doesn't matter. But it's still_ _extremely irritating._

Here, there was a blotch of ink on the page, as though Obi-Wan's arm had been jarred while he was writing. Then, a few lines down, the entry took up again.

_Anakin just came in, with a very random question in mind. He does that sometimes, and I always wonder where he gets these things. I really wish he'd at least knock—to keep him from wondering about this journal, I had to hide it under the bed just before he saw it. He wanted to know what my main goal was for him._

_Well, of course, I told him what I wanted to hear: that I wanted to see him become a great Jedi Knight, or maybe even a Master, although I did add mentally that the odds of Anakin becoming a Master were very small. He's far too like Qui-Gon for that to happen._

_He's left now, satisfied—and I'm left alone with my guilt. Because I didn't tell him the truth. Of course I want him to be a Knight, very much so—but what I truly want for Anakin is not a goal that I can accomplish. It's more of a wish, a petty child's wish._

_More than anything, I confess, I would want Anakin to forget that he ever loved Padme. I would want things to be like they were before, when his attention was on me and only me, and there was no choice that he had to make._

_Despicable and selfish as it is, it's what I truly want for him._

After that, there were only blank pages.

There was a loud pounding in Anakin's ears that made it nearly impossible to think. All he could manage was the forceful thought that he hated this book, this horrible book that told him things he had never wanted to know. He looked at it in his hand—it appeared so utterly innocent, as though it had not just broken his world in two. And then he couldn't even bear to touch it any longer, and Anakin threw it to the ground and ran, ran faster than he had ever run in his life. All he wanted was to get away from that—that _thing_, but no matter how hard he ran he could not escape from the awful words that were echoing in his brain over and over, keeping in time with the pounding of his footsteps.

_He hates her. He hates her. He hates her. He hates her._

Anakin found himself in the Room of the Thousand Fountains with no remembrance of having gotten there. Without even slowing, he headed for the corner of the room. There were many other Jedi around him, and a few shot curious looks at him as he sped past them, but no one spoke, and when Anakin reached the corner, surrounded by dozens of large fountains that hid him from a casual observer's gaze, he sank to his knees and felt himself about to cry.

Obi-Wan had lied to him.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, his Master, his best friend, his brother, his father—had _lied_ to him.

He had said he did not mind, he had told Anakin that he was happy for him, and all the while he had been hiding _this_—this dreadful secret that, to Anakin, seemed the worst thing in the world. For if he couldn't trust Obi-Wan, he could trust no one.

Not even Padme.

_He hates her. He hates her._

And then, the unspeakable thought: _Does he hate me, too?_

But no, that was the reason for all of this. Obi-Wan would not have his Padawan taken away from him, by anyone. He would not let Anakin share his affections with anyone else.

_So I can't love anybody else, ever? _Anakin thought bewilderedly, angrily. The thought that Obi-Wan had somehow betrayed him overwhelmed his mind, but that was a thought he was not ready for. Anakin tried to bite back the tears that threatened to escape, but he could not stop them, and all he could do was lean his head against the wall and let the salt roll down his cheeks as he drowned in self-pity.

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More coming later! 


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you guys so much for all the reviews! I love it!

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Through his misery, Anakin heard soft footsteps on the other side of the wall of fountains. He barely had time to straighten and dash a hand roughly across his eyes, in a vain attempt to hide his crying, before Obi-Wan stepped around the fountain.

"Anakin?" he asked concernedly, over the soft noise of the fountains, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Anakin snapped in a voice thick with emotion, even as his reddened eyes gave him away all too obviously. His expression worried, Obi-Wan knelt by Anakin's side and tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Anakin flinched away from his touch, looking away from his Master. He could sense the hurt that radiated from Obi-Wan at this, but he didn't care. _Let him worry,_ Anakin thought savagely. _You can't control my love._

"Do you honestly think I'll believe that nothing's wrong with you?" Obi-Wan asked dryly, not sounding at all as though he had been affected by Anakin's brush-off. But Anakin couldn't stand it anymore—he rose abruptly and moved to leave the little hiding place. Obi-Wan remained where he was, kneeling on the floor, eyes on the white tile. When he spoke, his voice was heavy.

"You read the journal, didn't you?"

Anakin stopped, in the small space between the fountain and the wall. He said nothing for a moment, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"How do you know that?" he asked finally. Pretenses now seemed utterly repulsive—already he had had enough to last him a lifetime. He heard Obi-Wan stand up, but he didn't—couldn't—turn around to face him.

"It wasn't where I left it, and I know of only one person who would have done such a thing." There was the smallest touch of amusement in his voice, but Anakin ignored the obvious implication and stayed where he was, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "What were you doing in my room, may I ask?"

Obi-Wan moved closer to Anakin and placed a hand on his shoulder as he spoke. Roughly, Anakin threw it off and whirled around.

"That doesn't matter!" he said furiously. "Why did you write that about me and Padme?"

"You went through my personal things," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Anakin's question.

"_And you lied to me!_"

A stunned silence followed this accusation. In the unnerving quiet, Anakin could almost believe that everyone in this gigantic room was listening to them, but he didn't care.

"I trusted you, and you lied to me!" he shouted again. "Why didn't you tell me the _truth_?"

Obi-Wan didn't say anything for a moment. "You...obviously didn't want to hear it," he murmured softly, looking down at the ground. "I didn't believe you were ready. Apparently I was correct."

"It doesn't _matter,_" Anakin repeated through clenched teeth. His voice was shaking with anger. "If you hated her, you could have at least told me!"

"I don't hate Padme."

"Then why can't you just _accept_ us?"

Obi-Wan didn't answer, and Anakin turned away sullenly, a curious emptiness rising inside him. He had won, technically—there was nothing Obi-Wan could say. But Anakin still waited where he was, waiting for his Master's voice.

After a moment, it came.

"Do you know why the Council consented to your marriage?"

Anakin knew what Obi-Wan wanted to hear, and he knew it was the truth. Sulkily, he mumbled, "Because you argued with them."

"Partly, perhaps," Obi-Wan admitted. "I'm not sure how effective my arguments really were. However, I have good reason to believe that they gave their permission because I, knowing you planned to abandon the Jedi if you were refused, threatened to follow you out of the Order in that case."

Anakin's breath stopped in shock. He turned slowly to face his Master, who remained ultimately calm, and stared at him.

"Close your mouth," Obi-Wan chided gently. His Padawan did so automatically.

"You—you said you would—" Eventually, Anakin gave up trying to voice his Master's inexplicable deed, and simply asked, his lips trembling, "Why?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "You were going to get married with or without their permission—it seemed to be that if it had to be done, you might as well stay here to do it."

"But if you hated her—"

"_Force_, Anakin," Obi-Wan said exasperatedly, "For the last time, I don't hate Padme!"

"Sorry." Stunned at this turn of events, Anakin tried desperately to get his scattered thoughts together, and to force his questions to come out at least semi-coherently. "But you didn't want us married at all—you said it would be a danger to the Order—"

"I know what I said," Obi-Wan replied heavily. "Anakin, what you read in my journal was true: I believe that very little good can come out of this marriage. Don't!" He held up a hand, just as Anakin opened his mouth to speak. "At least have the decency to wait until I'm finished." He sat down on the low stone ledge around the fountain closest to him, his eyes on the wall before him, and continued.

"That is not to say that I believe you and Padme will single-handedly undermine the Jedi Order and bring the Republic to its knees. It is simply my firm opinion that the Council knows what it's talking about, and I would prefer that you stick to its rules."

Anakin sank down to sit beside his Master. "I still don't understand," he said quietly. "Why did you offer to leave with me?"

Obi-Wan didn't speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was slow, as though he had to force the words out, and he still did not meet Anakin's gaze.

"I—I've seen you with her—and every time, you look different than I've ever seen you before. You look so content, so happy—and I eventually realized that Padme was giving you a love that I could not. To be honest, it hurt me—I didn't want to think that there wasn't anything I couldn't give you. I wanted to believe, foolishly, that you could stay by my side forever, and you would never need anyone else. But when I saw you like that, I knew I had no right to keep you from it. I love you more than anything, Anakin, but because of that I wanted to keep you for myself." He shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe I thought that if I loved you enough, you wouldn't want to leave me."

"But I don't," Anakin whispered, hurt.

"Not leave, per se, but more than anything, you want to take the Trials, so you can become a Knight. You want to prove that you can stand alone—that is as it should be. And I tried to keep you from it. I—I tried to keep you a child. You have every right to be angry with me for that. And—" Obi-Wan's voice broke with emotion, and he took a deep, shaking breath. "You'll have to forgive me—if you can."

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Um...the fourth chapter might be a little late in coming. I'm really stuck on it, so please be patient. I promise, it WILL come.  



	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Took me a week, but I finally just sat down and made myself write. I'm really unsure of this chapter—weird things come out of my brain at eleven PM—but Eruvyweth says it's good, and I trust her opinion most of the time. So, here you go: the coveted final chapter of _A Door Wide_.

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Anakin's heart seemed to have stopped—he stared at Obi-Wan's bowed head, still trying to work his stunned brain around his Master's words. Though he racked his memories, he couldn't recall a single time before this that Obi-Wan had asked his pardon for something he himself had done. Normally, it was the other way around.

"You—you want _me_ to forgive_ you_?" Anakin asked finally, in an overwhelmed voice. He had only meant it as an innocent question, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how condemning they must have sounded to Obi-Wan. His Master sighed heavily.

"I understand," he said quietly. He stood to go, looking everywhere but at Anakin. "If you need more time—"

"Master, no!" Anakin said quickly, standing and grabbing Obi-Wan's arm. "Don't go." Then, in a small, almost timid voice, because Anakin had very little experience in this area: "I—I forgive you."

The words sounded wrong, somehow, coming from his mouth. They were too authoritative, too proud. Anakin was the humble one of the two, always asking his Master's pardon, and Obi-Wan was the one who granted it. But Obi-Wan turned slowly to face him, and there were tears shining in his pale eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly. "I'm so sorry—"

But Anakin couldn't take this forced distance anymore. He didn't wait for Obi-Wan to finish, didn't hesitate, just threw his arms around him and held him close, knowing that this was how they belonged. Obi-Wan was crying softly, and even as he did so, Anakin's heart was thrumming with joy.

But something still nagged in the back of his mind, and it had to be said. Feeling slightly guilty, Anakin asked, confused, "But how could you leave just for me? The Order—it's your life."

Obi-Wan's hands moved to Anakin's shoulders as he firmly met his Padawan's gaze. All that remained of his tears was the faint red around his eyes—being Obi-Wan, already his emotions had been brought to rein.

"No," he said quietly. "You are my life, Anakin—all the Order ever did was bring us together. There would be no reason for me to stay if you left."

Anakin looked at his Master's face, taking in the familiar blue eyes, the crease in his forehead, the shock of ginger hair that fell always over his eye, and he felt an overwhelming rush of adoration surge over him. All at once he wanted to hug Obi-Wan, to throw himself at his feet, to cry, to laugh, even just to stand there and stare forever. What came out of his mouth seemed horribly inadequate.

"I love you," Anakin said simply, blinking back tears. And it was enough.

In the silence that followed, both knew that any words spoken would prove utterly hollow. There are times when the heart, so often forced silent, can speak the loudest, and be plainly understood—this was one such time.

But finally the spell was broken, by some noise that neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin heard distinctly. Anakin laughed, and he saw Obi-Wan smile broadly at the sound. Together, they moved out of the corner and began making their way through the multitude of rushing fountains to the nearest doorway.

"Master," Anakin said after a moment, "I'm sorry I shouted at you like that."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Apology accepted," he said genially. "And Anakin?"

Something in his voice made Anakin stop and turn to look him straight in the face. "Yes?" he answered curiously. Obi-Wan glanced down for a moment, then looked up into Anakin's eyes and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Padawan," he said seriously, "If you _ever_ lay a hand on my journal again, I reserve the full and unmitigated right to bash your head in with the nearest heavy object."

And that pretty well settled the matter.


End file.
